Forgotten
by DragonRidingSorceress
Summary: At the Battle of Yavin, the Rebels captured a very important prisoner. But he has lost his memory
1. Prologue: Subject Chapter 1: Awakening

Forgotten

Summary: At the Battle of Yavin, the Rebels captured a very important prisoner. But he has lost his memory...

_May you never forget what is worth remembering, nor ever remember what is best forgotten_ – Irish blessing

A/N: I'm no medical expert, so I hope you'll forgive any mistakes.

Prologue: Subject

"Commander, neural scans reveal severe damage to the prisoner's memory centres."

Mon Mothma stared through the observation window with a frown. Vader lay motionless on a cot. The large, black-sheathed limbs were fastened down. Mon worried that it would not be enough to combat the Sith's use of the Force.

The fearsome mask and helmet had been removed, replaced with an external respirator. The deathly-white face was such a contrast to the black skull the galaxy knew.

Looking at him now, Mon was struck by just how weak and pitiful Vader seemed. The medics' examinations had revealed all four limbs were prosthetics. His entire body was a mass of burn scars.

Not to mention the lungs that hadn't worked in decades, and never would again.

"How severe? How much will he remember?"

"Unknown. Thorough questioning must be conducted when the subject awakes."

Mon hesitated. Despite Vader's physical weakness, she was hesitant to revive him from the drug-induced sleep he lay in. _This _prisoner didn't need physical abilities to wreak havoc. The power of his mind – his power in the Force – was phenomenal.

Finally, she nodded. "I will authorise waking him. But," she cautioned, holding up an admonitory finger, "you must have a sedative ready. And I must be present. At the slightest sign of danger, I want him unconscious."

"Acknowledged, Commander."

Chapter One: Awakening

_I can't move._

_What happened?_

He stretched out mentally, trying to feel the damage to his body. Sensations began to filter slowly into his mind.

_I can't feel my legs. Or my arms. What happened?_

There was pressure on his face. Dimly, he registered a strange wheezing hiss that reminded him of –

_Breathing? Am I on a respirator?_

_What happened?_

He dared to open his eyes, and quickly closed them against the blinding light. It was so bright! When next he looked, the lamp had been pointed away from his face. If he squinted, he could begin to make out figures around him.

_I'm in an infirmary._

There was a team of droids, as well as a forbidding short-haired woman. She was clad in white, but looked like no medic he'd ever seen.

She stepped closer to his bed.

_Is she afraid? Why?_

Crisply, she asked, "Do you remember who you are?"

He blinked in surprise. "Wha-" his voice came out as a hoarse croak, as if it hadn't been used in a long time.

_How badly was I injured?_

_Obviously pretty badly, if they're asking what I remember._

"Your name. Do you remember your name?" she asked. There was no sign of fear in her now - _I must have imagined it - _only impatience.

He swallowed dryly, trying to get control of his voice. It didn't help. He summoned up his strength to croak out an answer.

"Ani- Anakin Skywalker."


	2. Chapter 2: Despair Interlude: Mon Mothma

Chapter Two: Despair

The woman looked stunned. She cast about her anxiously, as though looking for support.

There were only the droids, most of whom stared at readouts. One droid, hovering at his other side, gazed back at her impassively.

Finally she seemed to gather herself. "What's the last thing you remember?" she asked, rather more hesitantly than before.

He frowned. _The last thing I remember? The very last_ _thing I remember? I suppose waking up here, though I don't think that's what she wants me to tell her..._

He strove to bring order to his thoughts. "Being on... onboard the ship..." Trying to speak around the forced breaths of the respirator was taxing. He knew he should try to elaborate, try to explain _which _ship...

_Although they probably already know. _A dreadful thought struck him, and he tensed. _No. Oh, no..._

"What... happened?" he force out, staring at the woman.

The droid spoke. "What is your age?"

"Nine. I'm... nine." He ignored the woman's sharp gasp, fixing his gaze on her.

_My sight is fuzzy... as if I've been staring at the suns for too long... _

He forced his thoughts back on track, back to the desperate worry that filled him. "What _happened_?"

"Your ship crashed."

He could feel his eyes widening. "Is everyone... else ok?"

Once more, the woman looked to the droid. It had nothing else to offer.

"Who else was on board?" she asked softly.

_Oh, no. If everyone was alright, they would know..._

"The Jedi... Masters Yoda and Windu. That... senator. Palpy-something. There were two... pilots. Lenna and... um, Seck." The final name came out in a rush. "And Master Obi-Wan." Tears sprang to his eyes, and he squeezed them shut. "Tell me... they're all ok," he begged.

The silence that met his plea was all the answer he needed. "They... aren't ok... are they?" he managed to whisper as the tears began to fall.

Interlude 1: Mon Mothma

Mon gestured at the droid. "Put him to sleep."

Even as the sedative took effect, tears continued to well and slide down the sallow cheeks.

This was...

_Unbelievable. Unthinkable._

Not at all what she had expected.

Darth Vader...

...was Anakin Skywalker?

_How? How is that possible?_

She had met Anakin Skywalker on only a handful of occasions. But those occasions had left her with a far different impression than this... meeting.

_Nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker._

He had stunned her. By his identity. By his supposed age. But more importantly...

_By his compassion._

She replayed the conversation in her mind.

"_What happened?" "Your ship crashed."_

He didn't ask, _How badly am I hurt? _That would have been her first question.

No; instead...

_Instead, he had asked after others._

One minute after meeting him, Mon Mothma had developed a deep and abiding respect for this Anakin Skywalker.

She stared down at the leather-clad hand that rested in hers. She had no conscious memory of picking it up, but she was now gently stroking it as she contemplated.

_What in the galaxy happened? This... _child_... is as far from Darth Vader as it is possible to get._

_What went wrong?_


	3. Chapter 3: Loss Interlude: Mon Mothma

Chapter Three: Loss

Anakin floated in the fuzzy blackness of unconsciousness.

Something niggled at the back of his mind... _Wake up! There's something important... you were told something..._

But he couldn't remember. He didn't want to remember. The darkness was warm and comfortable, like his mother's embrace after a bad dream.

Yet, against his will, he could feel his body stirring to life. He struggled to stay, blissfully unaware. It didn't work.

With a reluctant groan, he opened his eyes. A med droid hovered by the bed, needle in hand. It had awoken him with an injection of chemicals.

The short-haired woman from before was also close at hand. At the sight of her, the memories rushed back.

Tears started to flow once more.

Masters Yoda and Windu had scared him, had rejected him, but still... he knew they were basically good people. He had never wanted them to die.

He didn't know Senator Palpy well, but the man had always been kind to him. Plus, he was Padme's – Queen Amidala's – friend, so he had to be good, right?

The shuttle pilots, Lenna and Seck, he'd known only briefly. Initially, they had been irritated at his presence in the cockpit, but once he'd shown he wasn't just an ignorant brat, they'd warmed to him. Lenna had, anyway, and had answered his questions. Seck had just ignored him.

It was Master Obi-Wan's loss that hit Ani the hardest. They'd only been together a few months, but he was already coming to rely on the young man who'd taken him as padawan...

"Anakin?"

The woman's voice broke into his thoughts. He looked at her, and quickly lifted a hand to dash at the tears. Big boys didn't cry, and he was a big boy. Jedi don't cry, and he was to be a Jedi...

But his hand wouldn't move, and the unbecoming tears continued to make trails down his cheeks.

He began to struggle, trying to get his arms to move. He was starting to panic – exactly how badly had he been injured? He couldn't even wipe his eyes...

A gentle touch stilled his efforts. The woman seemed to read the desperation in his eyes. After a moment's hesitation, she reached out and – almost tenderly – wiped the tears from his eyes.

"You have to stay still, Anakin," she told him. "You were very badly injured."

He nodded, flushing with embarrassment. She'd seen his unworthy tears.

"My name is Mon Mothma. I didn't tell you that last time, did I?"

Still silent, he shook his head.

"Well, now you know." She smiled, but it was awkward. She wasn't used to talking to children, Ani decided. Some people were just like that.

Mon sighed. "We're not quite sure what to do with you, Anakin. In all honesty... I don't think there's anything more we can do for your injuries."

_Definitely not used to talking to children!_

Through his respirator-forced breaths, Ani asked, "Can't you take me... to the Temple?" If anyone could heal him, it would have to be the Jedi Healers. But with Obi-Wan gone... He could feel tears start to well again, and blinked rapidly to keep them from falling.

"Please..." he asked desperately, "am I really the... the only survivor?" _Please, Force, let me just have misunderstood her... Obi-Wan's ok – alive, severely injured, like me, but alive..._

Obi-Wan was the only stable thing in his life. The Jedi hadn't wanted him until first Qui-Gon, and then Obi-Wan, had fought for him. Would they want him if Obi-Wan was gone? _I could go back to Mom... _But how would that work? She was a slave. And he was just a child...

Once more, the woman wiped away Ani's tears. She really shouldn't have bothered. Her next words unleashed a fresh flow. "I'm so sorry, Anakin."

This time, Anakin knew he had no chance of stemming the flow. He let himself cry.

Interlude 2: Mon Mothma

At Mon's signal, the droid administered another batch of sedatives. She didn't know how Anakin _(Vader?)_ managed to sob despite the respirator, but somehow, he did.

The painful, pitiable sound faded as the sedatives took effect.

Once more, Mon found she held the large, prosthetic hand in hers.

She had blanched when Anakin had asked about the Jedi Temple. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Force that he had changed the subject. What could she say? "I'm sorry, nine-year-old, in a time you don't remember, you destroyed it?" No, she couldn't do that to poor Anakin...

Too late, she realised she had a problem.

She was growing attached to the nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker.

Yesterday, after reviving Vader _(Anakin) _for the first time, she had had the med-droid replay the conversation for the Alliance High Command – at present, Garm Bel Iblis, Leia Organa, and herself.

Leia had insisted that it was a trick on Vader's part. A ruse to gain their sympathy, or lower their defences. Garm had agreed that it was a possibility, though he doubted Vader would ever debase himself so. More to the point, he had also cautioned Mon against 'getting too fond of this persona'. Even if it wasn't a trick, he'd reasoned, what if Vader regained his memory? He could use the Anakin personality against Mon...

Sighing resignedly, Mon rose from her seat. Time to report to Garm and Leia once more.

* * *

A/N: So, I'm going to try to have chapters as (mainly) Anakin's POV, and interludes for other characters. I'm not sure if I'll stick with that the whole way through...

Please R&R!


	4. Chapter 4: Interrogation Interlude: Leia

Chapter 4: Interrogation

There were more people around his bed as he awoke this time.

The kind lady – Mon – was there, which was reassuring.

Beside her stood... well, Anakin wasn't really sure what it was. It – he? – had brown, patterned skin and large, yellow eyes which protruded from the sides of his bulbous head. He looked vaguely fishy, Anakin thought with distaste. Fish were a fairly new experience for him, and he wasn't quite sure that he liked them.

A third man stood a little way apart from them, further from Anakin. He was tall and thin, with greying brown hair and creases around eyes that looked like they were used to smiling. He wasn't smiling now, but solemnly regarding Anakin. Anakin wanted to shrink away from the gaze – it made him feel guilty, although he didn't know what he might have done wrong. Looking away uncomfortably, he spotted his final visitor standing in the doorway.

She was short, and slight. Like Mon, she was clad all in a white dress; again, like Mon, she didn't seem to be a healer. She looked like Padme, he thought. She certainly could have passed for one of the handmaidens, perhaps even the decoy.

"Anakin."

He turned his gaze back to Mothma when she spoke his name. He still found it difficult to focus on things. He blinked a few times, hoping to clear away sleep from his eyes, but he knew the truth. The crash had probably damaged his eyes along with the rest of his body.

He wondered if these sombre people had come to tell him he wouldn't be able to walk again, or wield a lightsaber, or pilot a ship... Perhaps he would be stuck on a ventilator for the rest of his life...

"We need to know more about the ship you crashed in."

The fishy thing seemed to shift its stance a little. The woman in the door definitely twitched. The sudden movement drew his eyes to her, and he squinted a little, trying to see her more clearly.

"Just to recap: you said the others onboard were Jedi Masters Yoda and Windu - " Anakin nodded, "- Senator Palpatine of Naboo –" Another nod, "and two pilots, named Lenna and Seck."

"And Master Obi-Wan," he added, looking back at Mon. He couldn't let them forget Obi-Wan.

"That seems an odd complement," the tall man said in a soft, gentle voice. "Where were you all going?"

"To Naboo. Queen Amidala invited us to a ceremony to honour the fallen Gungan heroes." Without realising it, he'd tried to slip into the sing-song voice he used to recite Master Obi-Wan's instructions. The jarring regularity of the respirator stopped him, forcing air into him and out of him again and again. He frowned a little, annoyed by it, but continued explaining. It wasn't like he could do it properly anyway; his voice was too hoarse and raspy.

"Senator Pal-py-tine –" He glanced at Mon to see if he'd pronounced it right, and was reassured by a curt nod, "- offered to take me and Obi – Obi-Wan and I?" His master had always been after him about his grammar, saying it was unbecoming for a Jedi to speak like a street urchin, "- on his ship, since he was going too." Anakin couldn't stop a distracted, if wistful, smile from crossing his face. "It was a pretty wicked ship. Not super powerful or anything, but fully kitted!" The smile faded as he remembered that the ship was no more; most likely none of the others aboard had survived, either. "Lenna was telling me all about it," he said more quietly, feeling sad for the kind pilot. There were tears in his eyes again, and he blinked hard. Mon had already seen him cry, but these others hadn't.

To distract himself, his eyes strayed to the brown-haired woman again. A little corner of his mind wondered why she seemed familiar. Maybe she was an angel, like Padme?

"So how did Masters Yoda and Windu come to be aboard?"

"Oh, Master Obi-Wan was going to turn down the Senator, saying we'd fly with Yoda and Windu, so he offered to fly them, too. The Senator, I mean."

His gaze seemed to have unsettled the angelic woman, because she snapped at him now. "Don't look at me like that."

Anakin blinked again, taken aback. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, not sure why she was so uncomfortable. "I just feel like I know you."

He missed the startled looks that passed between Mon Mothma and the two men.

"Have you ever been to –"

Not even with his blurred vision could he miss the narrowing of her eyes. She turned on her heal and strode out, back rigidly straight.

"- Tatooine?" His voice trailed off as he stared after her. Her rudeness hurt, and he turned his bewildered gaze back to the trio of guests. "Did I say something wrong?"

An uncomfortable silence fell. The only noises were the wheeze of Anakin's respirator and the occasional beep and whirr from robots monitoring his vitals.

"We have a few more questions," Mon said suddenly, lifting her datapad.

Interlude: Leia

Willard had been right, Leia had to admit. She wasn't ready to face Vader, even though he was stripped of the black skull mask that haunted her worst dreams. The scar-streaked paleness was no better, and she thought the piercing blue eyes were even worse than the soulless lens.

Still, she'd had to face him. The man had tortured her, had destroyed her planet... she'd had to look him in the face and silently dare him to keep up his charade of amnesia.

It appalled her that he had. But she had expected no less.

Worst of all, he had the gall to ask if he knew her.

She was trembling slightly. No, it just her hands that were shaking. She clenched them into fists and continued to walk, not paying much attention to where she was going.

People hurried to get out of her way, but she didn't really notice.

Mon seemed to have bought in to Vader's trick. It was a convincing act, Leia admitted grudgingly. The blue eyes seemed so sincere, brightening with tears at just the right moment.

He wouldn't trick her.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I'm procrastinating my assignment right now, so I figured someone should benefit.


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